Convenient
by Mooselk
Summary: No Vanyar would finish the crossing of the Ice. Perhaps the Valar were somehow involved in that. Featuring not-so-benevolent Valar.


**Convenient**

By Mooselk

* * *

"Have they gone?" Námo head the breathy voice in his head and sighed. "Who, Manwë?"

"Who? The Noldor, of course, the ungrateful children…"

"The Noldor?! Manwë, I do not know how you missed it, but they have been gone for two Years now. The host of Nolofinwë is halfway across the Helcaraxë."

"What are they doing there?" Manwë's usually happy voice was groggy and mournful.

"You really have not been paying any attention, have you? Fëanáro burned his ships upon arrival to the Great Lands. It was either Nolofinwë crossed the Helcaraxë or returned to Tirion, and he has his own Oath to drive him forward," Námo was quite used to making quick recaps of current events. Manwë was all seeing, yes, but only with Varda at his side, and she had been absent recently, claiming that the number of prayers suddenly coming to her were giving her a massive headache (making her very nervous and moody).

"I'm not a miracle worker! I only do what Atar tells me!" she had exclaimed tearfully after one especially heartfelt message had come from an Exile that had gotten separated from the rest of his host on the Ice. Námo had not said anything, cradling the fëa of the poor Elda in his arms.

"The Noldor are all such nuisances…" Manwë muttered, "The Vanyar never did anything like this! See, each and every one is still here in the safety of Valinor, where they belong!"

"Not every one," Námo could not help but add ominously. There was a path clearing in his mind, like sweeping cobwebs out of the way, and he could see…

"What?!" then Manwë was standing in front of him in corporeal form, blue eyes blazing in anxious anger, "Who?"

"Well, there is one Elenwë Menelduriel, wife of Turukáno Nolofinwion," Námo replied, taking a fána himself and narrowing sclera-less black eyes.

"But-! She can't have—she must have been coerced by her husband! She would never have left on her own!" Manwë sounded nearly hysterical, or as nearly hysterical as the all-mighty King of Arda could sound without losing any of his majesty. He was, after all, very fond of the Vanyar, and a very firm believer in their obedience and overall goodness.

"That may be true, but the fact remains that Elenwë is walking across the Helcaraxë at this very moment," Námo pointed out.

"Can we get her off?" Manwë asked suddenly.

"What..?"

"Can we get her off the Helcaraxë?" Now Manwë's eyes were literally shining. It was as if he had borrowed some of Varda's stars to put into them; the effect was blinding.

"How would we do that? You heard the Doom. The only way she would be able to re-enter Valinor now would be through my Halls. "

Manwë's eyes shone brighter.

Námo raised one eyebrow, "Your implications are noted. You wish for us to arrange the passing of Elenwë Menelduriel. " He thought that he could have sounded more horrified about it. And yet, his vision had been clear. No Vanyar would finish the crossing of the Helcaraxë. They would not step onto the shores of the Great Lands for many Years yet.

Manwë shook his head endearingly, sending his white-blond hair swishing. "We are saving her. It's for her own good," He clapped his hands together once, "Now, to talk to Ossë about it…"

A few hours later, on the Helcaraxë

"How are you holding up, dear?" Turukáno murmured from next to her, raising a heavily wrapped, mitten-clad hand to rub her shoulders.

Elenwë shifted Itarillë to the other hip and arranged her furs so that the child would be completely covered by the soft warmth. It was a cloak made from the fur of a fluffy, cat-like creature the hunters had brought down a couple of months ago. Much scratchier than anything Elenwë would have considered back in Tirion, but the best that could be done out here.

"As well as I can be," she replied, smiling at him. "Ai, Turukáno, don't look so downcast. The Ice won't last forever!"

Turukáno had taken their betrayal at the hands of the Fëanorians harder than most, which was saying something. He had been in a perpetual black mood for a Year, driving his brother away with muttered curses involving a certain red-headed cousin among other things. Elenwë was not saying that any currently walking with them were pleased with her husband's uncle and cousins; she herself would cheerfully strangle them all if she could get her hands on them. But it was done. There was no point wailing about it now, when the energy was much better used on staying warm.

"It only seems that way sometimes," he growled back, but it was said jestingly and Elenwë rewarded him with a quick kiss on the cheek.

"There's the man I know and love!" she giggled and stepped forward—only to find that the solid surface beneath her feet had suddenly disappeared. With a squeak that cut off as soon as she hit the water- the freezing, deadly water- she found herself drenched to the bone.

"Elenwë!" Turukáno yelled, but she barely heard him. Itarillë was screaming and Elenwë thrust her up desperately and felt the child meet someone else's hands and be tugged out of her grip, taking one of Elenwë's mittens with her. Free of her daughter's weight, she started treading water desperately. It did not help. Her furs were heavy and cold-oh, how cold!- and the harder she struggled, the farther she sunk. Everything seemed to be painted in shades of gray, she noted absently. And she couldn't feel her arms.

"Elenwë!" Turukáno yelled again, appearing in her line of vision. He knelt at the edge of the ice and stretched his arm out as far as it would go. "Grab my hand! Elenwë, please!"

Making a massive effort, she raised her unfeeling frozen arm out of the water and reached towards him. Their fingers brushed and then it was as if an anchor had been tied to her ankles. She plummeted downwards, into the empty darkness. The numbness was spreading, now. She could feel it creeping into her bones, shutting down her muscles. It should be cold, her mind droned. But she couldn't feel it. She couldn't feel anything at all, really. I'm dying, she thought, I'm dying and I should be scared but I can't feel anything. And then the numbness reached her eyes.

She awoke to light. Blinking a couple of times, she tried to move her arms and found that she could not beyond an awkward twitch.

There was a presence in her room. The air whirled and cleared to reveal a pair of very, very blue eyes twinkling down at her. Just eyes. She screeched, or tried to-it came out as a raspy cough- and the eyes crinkled as laughter rang through the air.

"My apologies! I forgot that you Children are used to full bodies," said the stranger, of whom she could now only see long legs clad in a pair of white breeches. He knelt down to smile at her and Elenwë's eyes widened.

"L-lord Manwë!" she croaked, "B-but how? What am I doing here?"

"My dear, dear child. It's over now, don't fret. You have been returned to Valmar."

Valmar?! But that meant…

"I died," with a massive effort, Elenwë sat up. How should she feel about this? Oh, distraught, yes. That would do nicely.

"Only in a manner of speaking, Elenwë. You were _saved_."

"But what of my husband? What about my daughter?!" her voice was returning, and it rose in hysterical trills. Hmm, her cold heart said, well isn't that touching?

The smile did not waver, but she saw something like disappointment flash through his endless blue eyes.

"Shhh. You are tired, darling. It is time to sleep." He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and disappeared, leaving behind a strong smell of cinnamon, just as she was about to ask him if he could maybe send her back, pretty please.

Whoever had "saved her" had overlooked something. The numbness was still inside of her. They forgot to take it out. It was spreading again, but Elenwë was too tired to fight it.

"Sleep," the emptiness whispered enticingly, "Rest. Worry no more."

Elenwë fell back against her pillows drowsily, and remembered that she hated the smell of cinnamon.

* * *

**A/N: Arranged deaths? Nobody knows. **

**Just to be clear, I do not see the Valar as evil. I do, however, see them as not being capable of fully understanding the Eruhíni. So their actions are not done out of malice, just out of ignorance. (except Námo. who has ~visions~)**

* * *

**Quenya Names:**

_Turukáno: _Turgon

_Itarillë: _Idril


End file.
